


Baby Boy

by Lichinamo



Series: SAF Trope Roulette [1]
Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe- Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe- Modern Setting - Freeform, Bittersweet Ending, Gen, I got this from a trope generator please don't hate me, Kidfic, Psychological Introspection, it's actually a lot darker than you'd think, mentioned torture, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:08:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 3,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26116948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lichinamo/pseuds/Lichinamo
Summary: The scientist began preparing Curt’s arm for injection, cleaning the skin delicately.  “This is something I’ve been working on for years now. It’s the closest thing humanity will get to the fountain of youth. That is, if it works.”The needle plunged into his skin, and Curt screamed.
Series: SAF Trope Roulette [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1900459
Comments: 16
Kudos: 27





	1. Tie Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> So I've started using a random trope generator (which I can link if anyone wants it) and the first one I got was de-aging.
> 
> After a lot of hemming and hawing I decided to just go with it
> 
> And I'm just gonna upload this all at once cause I wanna move on to whatever my next one is/finish up Fake It

This was the worst torture Curt had ever gone through.

The scientist had strapped him down to a table- leather straps across his ankles, his knees, his thighs, his waist, his chest, his forehead. Even his wrists were cuffed down. It was impossible for Curt to move. They even had a ball gag in his mouth.

They’d been experimenting on him for days. Poking him, prodding him, cutting him open- Curt was pretty certain they’d taken one of his kidneys out.

The lead scientist- Curt didn’t get his name, he just called him Bastard in his head- was prepping a needle, an evil grin on his face. Curt wanted to kill him.

“It seems our time together is coming to an end, Mister Mega,” The scientist cooed, flicking the tip of the needle lazily. “Your partner is on his way here at this very moment. But that’s all right. I’ve got a special parting gift for you.”

The scientist began preparing Curt’s arm for injection, cleaning the skin delicately. “This is something I’ve been working on for years now. It’s the closest thing humanity will get to the fountain of youth. That is, if it works.”

The needle plunged into his skin, and Curt screamed.


	2. The Transformation

White hot pain.

That was all Curt knew. Just white hot pain.

His skin was tightening around him, he felt like he was dying-

He slipped in and out of consciousness, hardly aware of the goings-on around him. Vaguely he felt himself being unbuckled from the table and carried away, heard voices, but they were so far. So very far.

“Barb, what’s happening to him?”

“I don’t know, Agent Carvour, I’m waiting for the results of the tests-”

Pain. So much pain.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and Curt was able to slip off into an unfeeling sleep.

When he next awoke, he felt. . . Strange.

There was something thick and soft between his legs, forcing them slightly apart. His clothes were impossibly soft, and there was a weight on his tongue.

Oh god, was he gagged again? Was he back in the lab, about to be tortured, picked apart until there was nothing left of him-

Curt felt himself be picked up by large hands- large hands? What kind of giant had him captive now?- and was being quietly shushed.

“Hey, it’s okay, baby,” Owen’s familiar voice cooed. “Daddy’s got you. Daddy’s here.”

_What the fuck?_


	3. Breakfast

When Curt finally managed to peel open his eyes, he saw Owen, looking just as gigantic as he pictured.

Or maybe it was Curt who’d shrunk. He looked down at himself and saw a baby sized body- toddler sized? Curt wasn’t very good with kids. He kicked his feet a little, testing to see if this was some sort of illusion, and it confirmed his fears- the tiny body was his.

The scientist’s words echoed in his head- the closest thing humanity will get to the fountain of youth. Oh god, the scientist had actually turned him into a baby again. Curt knew the man was a psychopath, but this just takes the fucking cake.

Owen settled Curt on his hip, bouncing him. He patted Curt’s butt gently. “There we go, baby boy. Is someone hungry?”

Curt gave Owen a ridiculous look as he was carried out of the room- which he now saw was beginning to be converted into a nursery, with a crib and a rocking chair and all. They must think he’s very young, then.

Did they not realize he was still fully aware in his mind?

He was placed down into a high chair and kicked his legs in irritation as Owen prepped food for him.

Owen just chuckled in amusement. “Someone’s a fussy baby, huh?” He placed the baby food on the tray of the high chair, spoon in hand, and hooked a finger into the object in Curt’s mouth. He pulled it out with a tug, and Curt realized with a flush of humiliation that it was a pacifier- and he’d been sucking on it.

Owen scooped a small spoonful of mush and held it up to Curt’s mouth. “C’mon, Curt, open up for Daddy.”

Curt kept his mouth firmly shut. He was going to keep his dignity, damnit.

Owen sighed, and before Curt knew what was happening, he was reaching over and tickling Curt’s tiny body.

Curt burst into giggles and the spoon was slid quickly into and out of his mouth. Curt had no choice but to swallow- it was that or choke.

He glared at Owen, who looked somewhat amused as he grabbed another spoonful. “I know, I’m a mean, horrible Daddy, aren’t I?”

Curt sighed to himself and decided to let Owen feed him. It couldn’t get worse.


	4. Bottlefeeding

It very quickly got worse.

“Please take the bottle, poppet.”

The rubber nipple of the baby bottle was being pressed against Curt’s lips, but he wouldn’t budge. This was too degrading. He wouldn’t do it.

Owen was currently cradling him in his arms, sitting in the rocking chair and trying to give him a bottle of warm milk- or was it formula? Curt didn’t know.

The nipple pressed further against his lips, still gentle. “C’mon, honey, aren’t you thirsty?”

That made Curt pause. If he thought about it, he was thirsty. He hadn’t properly drank anything since before he’d been captured; they gave him his water by dumping a bucket over his head once every couple of hours.

Slowly, Curt latched on to the nipple and began suckling, hating every second of it as the liquid flowed into his mouth and down his throat.

Owen sighed in relief and rocked back and forth in the chair, patting Curt’s back gently. “There we go, baby. There we go.”

Curt closed his eyes and drank until the bottle was pulled from his mouth with a quiet _pop._ He felt himself be slung over Owen’s shoulder and the patting resumed. It took him a moment to understand why, when a burp- and some spit up- bubbled out of him.

Owen pulled him back and held him so he was standing in his lap. Cooing as he wiped Curt’s face with a cloth, he said, “Isn’t that better, poppet? Now we’ve got a full tummy.”

Curt let out a huff of irritation. He just hoped Barb was working on something to fix this.


	5. Changing

Curt was in the middle of ‘playing’- which was really just him sitting in a baby bouncer so Owen could do other things- when he realized he had to pee.

Nope. No way. Absolutely no way in hell was he-

He was peeing himself. Curt was peeing himself.

As an agent of the CIA who had been kidnapped and tortured, Curt had peed himself before. It was an inevitability- sometimes they did it deliberately, in an attempt to cause humiliation, and sometimes it was an accident, when they electrocuted you so much you just lost control over your bodily functions.

This was the first time Curt had ever peed himself off the job, though.

A whimper escaped Curt’s lips before he could stop it, and the next thing he knew he was sobbing.

How much of a baby was he becoming? Was he doomed to slowly lose more and more of himself until he eventually became an actual baby?

Curt was being lifted out of the bouncer, Owen making the same soothing sounds he’d made that morning.

“Hey, what’s wrong, poppet?” Owen asked, frowning, before patting Curt’s behind. Understanding lit in his eyes. “Aw, is someone wet?”

Curt let out another wail of distress as Owen carried him to the nursery. This was surely the worst thing to ever happen to him.

Owen made quiet cooing sounds as he laid Curt down on the changing table. “It’s okay, Curt. Daddy’s gonna get you all nice and cleaned up.”

Owen shuffled around as Curt cried. Soon he saw something wiggling above him, and he looked up at it in mild interest.

“Want your binkie, baby boy?”

Curt gulped but let Owen press the pacifier into his mouth, finding that the weight on his tongue was comforting. He sucked on it as Owen unsnapped the full body sleeper he was wearing, and tried not to cringe at the sight of his diaper.

 _His diaper._ Curt wasn’t entirely sure that he was still alive; for all he knew, this could be hell.

Owen was unfazed; he undid the tabs on the diaper and wiped him up expertly. Soon he was all powdered up and taped into a fresh diaper, and it was almost like it never happened.

Owen wiped his hands with a baby wipe before picking Curt back up and kissing his forehead. “There we go. All better.”

Curt attempted to parrot the words back at him, but it came out as no more than a babble. Owen just smiled at him and gave him another kiss.

“Such a good baby.”


	6. A Visitor

Curt did not like this.

A strange woman was in the apartment cooing over him, and Curt _did not_ like it.

He shrunk away from her, hiding his face in Owen’s neck. If it weren’t for the fact that Owen was bouncing him- and the fact that he could hear everything that they said, and the fact he was sucking on a binkie- he could pretend that he was somewhere else.

The woman just laughed at him. “He’s a shy little one, isn’t he?”

“He’s not very fond of strangers,” Owen said diplomatically, still bouncing him.

“Aw, well hopefully I won’t be a stranger soon!”

Owen hummed and didn’t respond to her statement. He stood up, Curt on his hip. “Well, it was lovely to meet you, but it’s time for his bottle and nap, so-”

“Don’t you think he’s a little old for a bottle?”

Oh, so she was one of _those_ people. Judgmental and ready to share her opinions as if they were fact.

“He only just turned one,” Owen said, clearly trying to hide his irritation. “I don’t think he’s quite ready for a sippy cup yet.”

Curt let out a huff of air, sucking harder on the binkie. He could totally drink from a sippy cup. He didn’t need a bottle.

“You know they say the earlier you start weaning them off the bottle, the better.”

Owen didn’t respond again, balancing Curt carefully as he prepped the bottle.

“I can hold him for you.”

Curt gripped Owen’s shirt, suddenly feeling clingy. Or, clingier than before.

“I can handle it,” Owen said firmly. “Now if you could please leave so I can get him ready to go down, that would be great.”

The woman huffed in irritation but left, muttering about how rude some people are and how no one has any manners anymore.

Owen finished prepping the bottle and looked down at Curt in amusement. “That was interesting, wasn’t it, poppet?”

Interesting wasn’t the word Curt would use, so he just looked up at Owen.

Owen carried him off to the nursery, bottle in hand. “Come on, let’s get you all nice and fed so you can go beddy-bye.” 

Curt pouted. He didn’t need a nap.


	7. Post-Naptime

Curt yawned sleepily, stretching. What was the last thing he remembered. . .?

Oh yeah. Owen had put him down for a nap.

Before he even had time to pout, Curt was being scooped out of the crib and carried over to the changing table.

Still half asleep, Curt sucked on the binkie- when did he start thinking of it as a binkie and not a pacifier?- and squirmed slightly as Owen began undressing him.

“Someone’s feelin’ squirmy, huh?” Owen chuckled, undoing Curt’s diaper.

Curt squinted in confusion, wondering why the heck Owen was changing him, when he realized he’d wet himself during his nap.

Oh god. That was another little bit of himself that he lost.

Curt sniffed, and Owen cooed at him. “It’s okay, poppet. You’re all nice and dry now.”

Owen patted Curt’s butt before leaning down and blowing a raspberry on Curt’s bare belly.

Curt let out a squeal, giggling happily, and Owen grinned at him before redressing him.

“There’s my happy boy.” Owen scooped him back up and cradled him gently in his arms. “I think I wouldn’t mind if you stayed like this forever.”

That made Curt pout unhappily. He didn’t want to be a baby. He wanted to be a big boy.

Adult. He wanted to be an adult. Christ, what was happening to him?


	8. Playtime

Curt sat on the play mat in the living room and pushed the toy truck back and forth under Owen’s watchful eyes.

This was boring. Why did Owen want him to do this?

“Come on, poppet, don’t you wanna play?” Owen tried to encourage him, pushing his own truck beside Curt’s.

No, Curt did not want to _play._ He wanted everything to go back to normal.

Owen sighed, stood up, and walked away. Curt barely had time to register that he was gone before he was back and plopping a stuffed elephant that was almost the size he was in front of him.

“Look, Curt, it’s Mister Trunks!”

Curt reached out and hesitantly touched the elephant. It was softer than he expected it to be. It actually felt nice to the touch. . .

Curt tugged the elephant close to him and hugged it tight, feeling it against his skin.

Owen chuckled from beside him in amusement. “You’re supposed to play with the plushie, baby.”

Curt glared at him, cheek pressed against the soft fabric of the elephant. If he wanted to cuddle the elephant, he was gonna cuddle the elephant.

“I see. You’re just a little snuggle bug, aren’t you?” Owen picked Curt up, pulling him- and the elephant- into his lap. “Got any snuggles left for Daddy, or did Mister Trunks take them all?”

Curt let Owen cuddle him. There wasn’t any harm in it.


	9. Visiting Barb

Curt kicked his legs aimlessly, sucking on his binkie and hugging the stuffed elephant close to him. Owen had gotten him dressed into a pair of overalls and a shirt that had the Cookie Monster on it, saying that they were ‘going on a trip’ before strapping him into a car seat.

Owen glanced back at him in the rearview mirror before reaching a hand back and tickling Curt’s tummy. “Are you excited to see Auntie Barb, baby?”

They were seeing Barb? 

Oh, thank god. Maybe she had something to fix everything.

Curt giggled and nodded absentmindedly, still sucking away and kicking his legs. He could already picture it, Barb figuring everything out and things going back to normal. . .

Curt was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice the car had stopped until Owen was unbuckling him from the car seat. He was only mildly surprised when he was then strapped into a stroller.

Owen pressed a kiss to his nose before he stood up and began to push the stroller- with Curt inside- into the building.

Curt looked around with interest. Everything looked so much _bigger. . ._

“Oh my god, is that Mega?”

Oh, right. Curt’s coworkers were here. And were going to see him. As a baby.

Curt quickly hid his face in the plush elephant so they wouldn’t see how embarrassed he was, sucking on the binkie furiously. He hated to admit it, but it did bring him a small comfort.

Owen greeted people as they walked by, chatting about things that Curt honestly didn’t pay attention to. He just wanted to be left alone.

Apparently they arrived in the lab, because he soon heard Barb’s familiar voice.

“Owen! You can bring Curt right over there, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

The stroller eventually came to a halt, and Curt peeked out. They were in a medical section of the lab. That either boded very well for him, or not at all.

Owen began pushing the stroller back and forth in a sort of rocking motion, and Curt’s eyes drooped. It wouldn’t hurt to close them for a moment. . .

The next thing he knew, he was being picked up out of the stroller, Owen cooing about how he was ‘such a good little boy’ and Barb saying ‘this won’t take a minute’.

Curt didn’t even have time to process what they were saying before a needle plunged into his skin.

He screamed.


	10. Tests

Curt sobbed as Owen paced the room, bouncing him in his arms, patting his back and making quiet shushing noises.

“It’s okay, poppet, it’s okay, Daddy’s got you,” Owen cooed, trying desperately to soothe him. “I know it hurts, but it’ll all be okay soon.”

Curt didn’t want it to be okay _soon._ He wanted it to be okay _now._

“Did he cry this hard last time?” Barb asked from the machine as she tested his blood.

Last time? Last time he was there was when he was in the process of shrinking, he wasn’t capable of crying then. 

Unless he’d been this way for longer than he thought, and he was only just getting his mind back.

And wasn’t that a scary thought.

“He’s just been really fussy lately,” Owen said, still bouncing him before sighing. “Do you want a bottle, poppet? Will that make you feel better?”

No, Curt did not want a bottle. He wanted his arm to stop _hurting._

“Here, I’ve got something that might make him feel better.” Barb stepped away from the machine that was running his blood and dug around in her desk.

“Found it!” Barb pulled out a beanie baby. “I got this for him last week when he first shrunk, but haven’t had the chance to give it to him yet.”

“That’s so nice of you, Barb,” Owen said, before addressing Curt. “Say thank you to Auntie Barb, Curt.”

Curt realized he’d stopped crying, and he mumbled a ‘thank you’ from around the binkie, arms extended and reaching out for the beanie baby.

Barb handed it to him, and he hugged it tightly. It wasn’t as soft as Mister Trunks, but it still felt nice to hold.

Owen pressed a kiss to the side of Curt’s head. “Daddy’s gonna put you down now, okay, poppet? He and Auntie Barb need to have a talk.”

That was fine. If they were talking, they weren’t focusing on him, which meant they couldn’t poke him with any more needles.

Curt was strapped back into the stroller, now able to cuddle the beanie baby and Mister Trunks. He didn’t even bother paying attention to what they were saying, mind elsewhere.


	11. Daddy

Curt thought they were done with him, but apparently, they were not.

Which sucked, because he was _trying_ to take a nap. Crying is tiring work, after all.

“Hey there, sleepy boy,” Owen said softly, wiggling a finger under his chin. “Auntie Barb has a question for you, then you can go back to bed.” He took Curt’s binkie out of his mouth, causing him to pout.

Curt scrunched his face in irritation but opened his eyes. He was cuddled up into Mister Trunks and was holding the beanie baby tightly in his arms.

Both Barb and Owen were crouching in front of his stroller and smiling gently at him.

“Can you tell me who that is, Curt?” Barb asked, pointing at Owen.

That was a simple question. It was Owen.

Curt opened his mouth, ready to say Owen, but that wasn’t what came out.

“Daddy.”

Owen smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s right, poppet. It’s Daddy.”

No, he wasn’t Daddy. He was Owen. He was-

Daddy gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead.

Curt kicked his legs and reached up, making grabby hands. “Binkie?”

Daddy pushed the binkie back into his mouth, and Curt sucked away on it happily. Why had he been so upset earlier? He couldn’t remember.

Daddy tickled his tummy lightly. “Go ni-nights, baby boy.”

Curt closed his eyes and cuddled his plushies. Daddy was there. Everything would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end. Somehow this is my darkest ending so far? Wild.
> 
> I wrote this all in 24 hours


	12. Epilogue

Daddy was sad, and Curt didn’t know why.

He was trying to hide it, but Curt could tell. He’d been looking at Curt with odd expressions ever since they visited Auntie Barb the other day, and it was just making him confused.

It was no fun when Daddy was sad. Curt needed to cheer him up.

Curt crawled his way over to Daddy. It was slow going- crawling was hard, it took a lot of effort- but he managed it, dragging the beanie baby from Auntie Barb with him. He plopped himself down at Daddy’s feet and looked up at him with big eyes.

Daddy looked down at him, having been in the middle of something that was probably boring. “Something the matter, poppet?”

Curt lifted his arms in the air. “Daddy, up.” It came out slightly muffled, since he had his binkie in, but Daddy would know what he meant.

Daddy chuckled softly, scooping him up from under the armpits and settling him in his lap. “What’s this about?”

Curt patted Daddy’s face with his hands, the beanie baby softly hitting one of Daddy’s cheeks. “Daddy no sad.”

“Oh, I’m not sad, poppet,” Daddy said quietly, kissing his forehead. “I’m just. . . tired.”

Curt tilted his head to the side slightly. “Daddy nap?”

Daddy hummed. “I think that’s a good idea. You’re such a smart little boy.”

Curt preened under his Daddy’s praise as he was carried into the kitchen. He sucked on his binkie happily while Daddy prepped his nap time bottle. Curt was a great fixer, just like Daddy.

Soon Daddy had him swaddled in his blankie, and he was being rocked back and forth in his rocking chair while he suckled away on his bottle.

Daddy burped him when he was done and gave him another kiss on the forehead as he was drifting off. “Goodnight, Curt. I love you.”

Curt loved Daddy too. He loved Daddy more than anything.


End file.
